“Not quite. But it depresses her. Seems like she’s sad a lot these days, not that she’ll admit it.”
“Even with a new man in her life?” Acid burned in his gut at the thought of them together.
“Funny that. And honestly, I’m not sure what that’s about. She keeps saying they’re just friends, but I didn’t think Aidenhadwomen friends.”
Well, didn’t that make Jake feel like yakking up his baked potato? Dave worked his mouth like he might go on—and oh, how Jake wished he’d go on—but instead of continuing, Dave finally took a sip of his beer and sagged back against the couch. He closed his eyes and said tiredly, “Anyway, how ’bout them Bears?”
The chirpingof Jake’s phone pulled him out of sleep at 6:25 on Monday morning. He fumbled to locate it on his bedside table, knocking over a glass of water in the process.
“Shit,” he yelped, lunging to mop up the liquid with a corner of the sheet. But the chaos was worth it when he saw the name on the screen.
Mabel:You up?
Forgetting all about his now-damp bedding, he tapped the phone against his palm a few times. What did he have to lose? He snapped a picture of himself in his still-dark bedroom, sleepy eyes, rumpled hair, balled-up pillow and all. And he made sure to include his bare chest in the shot since he knew Mabel liked the view.
Jake:I am now.
Mabel:Sorry.
Immediately another text flashed on his screen.
Mabel:But morning looks good on you.
Seconds later, she replied with a picture of her own. She was still in bed too, propped against her headboard with an enormous pillow, her cat dozing next to her. She looked warm and relaxed in a thin, low-cut tank top. Was the angle of her shot as intentional as his had been? He’d love to believe that was the case, just like he’d love to be lying there next to her in that big bed.
Then a horrible thought struck him. What if Murdoch had just left? Dave had seemed skeptical about their just-friends claims, and Mabel never brought him up when the two of them were texting. From what he could tell, they’d been spending plenty of time together since the Brick Babe auditions. But if Mabel was texting with him, she must be alone. He looked more closely at the picture, searching for any signs of recent occupation: an extra indent on the pillow, masculine clothing tossed on the comforter, a book left behind on the nightstand.
Nothing visible. Nothing obvious. Not that it wasprofessionalof him to care.
So why did his fingers tap out such an unprofessional response?
Jake:That goes double for you.
Mabel:Who, me?
She sent another picture, this time doing an exaggerated duck face like she was a thirteen-year-old sending her first Snap. But she’d moved the camera closer and had shifted in a way that pulled her tank even tighter against her breasts so Jake could make out every line and curve and, yep, nipple. He groaned and knocked the back of his skull against the headboard. She probably wouldn’t appreciate a shot in return of the massive erection he was now sporting, although he was briefly tempted to send her something more realistic than the eggplant emoji. She hadto have chosen that angle on purpose, right? For reasons passing all understanding?
Then her next text was a virtual bucket of ice water in his lap.
Mabel:Your dear friend Thea’s pretty good.
Jake:Can’t say I set my alarm to catch my “dear friend’s” radio debut.
He opened the station live stream on his phone and heard Dave’s voice followed by a surprisingly confident female one.
“New research out of the University of Connecticut says that even a fifteen-minute nap during the day can boost memory and productivity,” Dave was saying.
“Well, that’s what I tried to explain to the traffic cop, but he insisted on writing me a ticket anyway!”
He gave a huff of surprise. Thea was quick. Still, she couldn’t compare to his favorite radio personality.
Jake:She’s no Mae Bell.
Mabel:But she’s not bad.
Jake typed,Meet me in 30 minutes for coffee,then deleted it. Next he typed,I started falling for you in July, and I’m still not over it. Delete.I wake up every morning dreaming about your lips.Delete.Pick me over him.Delete, delete, delete.
He finally settled onBet her Jerry Seinfeld impression’s not as good as yours.
